


Safehouse

by Leathernotebook



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fever Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, M/M, Mild Gore, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sickness, deacon in denial, hurt deacon, protective deacon, protective sole survivor, theyre so pining for each other, wounded Deacon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leathernotebook/pseuds/Leathernotebook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them saw the Deathclaw until it was too late, and now the closest town for medical supplies is miles away. Sole just hopes Deacon can make it that long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alcove

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this, you all can thank my good friend Mr_Walrus for making sure I actually wrote this, and for being an amazing beta.  
> Have fun reading you masochistic weirdos.

Deacon had seen his fair share of gruesome things that the Commonwealth had to offer. Hell, it’s in the job description. But when he started traveling with the Sole Survivor, he began to experience those sorts of things from a whole new perspective. That is to say, up close and personal. The fact that they happened on a daily basis was also something that had not gone unnoticed.

Before, he mostly dealt with people and ghouls. He was intelligence, not a tank. His expertise was hiding in the shadows, striking hard and fast then getting out unseen. He almost never got hurt, but when he did it wasn’t pretty. That’s not to say he was unfamiliar with pain, everyone who was in the Wasteland knew pain on intimate levels.  And besides the pain that came with regular facial reconstruction surgeries, he’d been brutally wounded in the fall of the Railroad’s last HQ while helping others escape.   

He preferred to deal with his pains, mental and physical alike, on his own. The less people who knew about him and his capabilities, the better. The Railroad knew his tendency to hide his wounds, but they knew better than to comment on it. That hadn't stopped since he started traveling with Sole, but infuriatingly enough, the man would call him out on it when he’d been  barely grazed by a raider’s bullet or something. It was minor, but Sole had insisted on treating it. 

Deacon wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He didn’t like relying on others for help, the moment you do, they fail you. That was his mindset for the longest time, but the pre-war man was slowing changing it. Even though he still wasn’t comfortable having his injuries treated by others, at this point, it was more out of habit than anything else.

The Sole Survivor hadn’t been severely injured since Deacon came around, which was a miracle, considering the amount of time they had been traveling together. It’d been several months, but really neither of them had kept close track. If Deacon had any say about it, the Survivor would never be hurt under his watch, hell, he’d jump in front of a Behemoth if it came to it. He was expendable, the Sole Survivor was not. Or at least that was how he viewed it. He hadn't realized it, but this fierce protectiveness in him had grown steadily throughout their time together, and even before if he was being honest with himself. But it was firmly rooted there now and Deacon didn’t mind.

They had been traveling North towards Mercer’s safe house and found themselves in a rather desolate isolated area. In their time in this part of the ’Wealth they had only encountered a couple wild mongrels and snuck past a gunner camp they decided wouldn’t be worth it to attack, but besides that it had been a harmonious journey. It was peaceful, the week before had been filled with super mutants and placing Tinker Tom’s MILAs in the inner city. They decided taking a break from the towering buildings and dark alleys by checking on the refuge to the west, Sole decided it would be a nice change of pace, and Deacon, as always, followed his lead.

As a general rule Deacon avoided being out in the open. The Sole Survivor often made jokes about his paranoia regarding snipers, but it wasn't without reason. In the past he had several close encounters with snipers, and had sniped a few targets himself. Once you do that, it's hard not to look around and see all the best spots someone could be watching from a distance. There were no tall buildings here though, it was mostly barren trees and underbrush. It was hilly however, and he swiped his gaze under groves where Yao Guai might be concealed.

They had decided to pass the time swapping stories, Deacon was always exaggerating his to the extent it was unclear if there was any authenticity at all. He liked adding one or two bits of truth with a bunch of lies, and it often confused people. Sole knew him by now though, and often tried to decipher what actually happened. It’d become a game for them to pass the time. Deacon knew most of the Sole Survivor’s stories from the waste, and no, he was definitely not stealing them. He always asked to hear something from before the war, if it wasn’t too painful. Sole usually obliged with retelling popular entertainment Deacon didn’t have access to, most common being old TV broadcasts.

The sun had just reached its peak in the sky and the blazing light filtered down. The Sole Survivor was enthralled talking about some pre-war television show he used to enjoy watching. Deacon wasn't paying much attention to it, which was unusual since he’d normally be riveted alongside, making sarcastic comments or asking questions. He didn't want to be rude but he was distracted by the sun-kissed skin of the other’s face, and the scrunch in the corners of his eyes caused by his excitement for the old stories. The Survivor hadn't noticed his lack of participation in the conversation, being too absorbed talking about someplace with lots and snow and crime. Absently Deacon wondered if there was still snow there.

It was in that moment when they both heard, or rather, felt, large booming footsteps. They froze, Sole stopping mid-sentence and Deacon crouching. Both scanned the area. The feeling or rumbling increased, accompanied by the distinctive noise of a Deathclaw’s breathing. Together they had taken out lots of Deathclaws, but in the position where they were, they didn’t know where this one was, just that it was close. Side by side, and slowly, they made their way towards a rather thick underbrush.

Deacon knew it wouldn’t hide their scent from the beast if it happened to wander over, or happened to be down wind, but they might be able to confuse it for a few seconds and get a sneak attack. In the corner of his vision, he saw Sole pull out Kellogg’s pistol. He found it interesting. It seemed to be his favorite weapon, alongside Deliverer which wasn’t exactly the best for a Deathclaw, but Sole smirked at Deacon, like he had a plan. Deacon returned the gesture and pulled out a shotgun, he didn’t feel like his usual finesse today, and if Sole was going to have him lug around extra weapons, he might as well use them. 

They were still side-by-side, a tree behind them and a bush in front. The sound of the beast’s steps had stopped somewhere nearby, but they could still hear its breath. It inhaled slowly, having likely caught their scent.

Deacon heard the Sole Survivor take a deep breath himself, probably trying to calm his nerves. Before he met Deacon, he had a terrifying encounter with one by himself, though there really wasn’t much else to be said besides that he obviously made it out alive

Deacon continued to scan the area visible through the bush. Sole did the same. The trees were pulling tricks on their eyes and they heard breaking branches where there were none. Deacon noticed an alcove off to the right of his partner where a thick tree blocked his vision. He could’ve sworn he’d seen movement. He signaled Sole that he was moving, and to stay in position, Sole nodded his head in confirmation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sole to quietly move with him, ’cause he did. Sole was one of the only people he had met who could be as stealthy as himself, it was just that the man had a tendency to be trigger happy in unknown situations.

Deacon slid his pack off his back quietly. It’d weigh him down if something nasty happened. He crept around his partner and ducked under a thick limb of a tree.

The footsteps started again, somewhere nearby. He started scanning once again, still, nothing. His pace quickened.

When he finally got a good view of the alcove that had grabbed his attention before, there didn’t seem to be any signs of a Deathclaw. He wandered slowly closer, hair rising on the back of his neck, and goosebumps forming. The air was thick with the scent of blood that often accompanied the beasts.

He’d wanted to know where the beast was so that they could plan an attack rather than cower at the base of a tree waiting for it to leave. The idea had sounded good in his mind, but now that he was actually thinking about it…

Deacon nervously rolled his shoulders and continued. He noted he was starting to get pretty far away from Sole, so he looked back and realized he was in the blind spot from before. He couldn’t see Sole, and then in the corner of his eye, red glinted and he turned. He saw what had been hiding from his line of sight.

It was the bloody gored body of a Radstag doe, eyes still open and staring endlessly. They’d walked up to a Deathclaw that was mid meal. His eyes widened under his sunglasses.

Two shots rang out.

He turned on his heel, and without thought, sprinted back to Sole.

More gunshots.

_ Goddamnit, why did I leave him? He should’ve come with me. Fuck, of all the times to make a dumb fucking mistake.  _

Small twigs of branches whipped his face, nearly knocking off his wig and glasses, several scratching his cheekbones and neck. His ears were filled with the rush of blood and the world seemed painfully clear.

When he saw the Sole Survivor, it was like he’d taken a hit of cheap Jet.

The Deathclaw was standing right there, too close, far too close, and Deacon saw the look on Sole’s face. They’d been together long enough that he recognized that expression. The Sole Survivor’s clip had run out. 

Deacon almost froze, but his training kicked in and he pushed forwards. The beast roared and raised the jagged nails of its namesake. Shotgun still in hand, he fired without stopping his sprint, but the mutated abomination didn’t even flinch.

He dashed even closer and Sole turned his face to Deacon, his expression growing horrified as he realized what the agent was about to do.

And then they collided, Deacon’s arms wrapped around sole as they toppled to the ground, his back towards the enraged Deathclaw.

Impossibly hot pain seared through him, stripes of white fire streaking across his shoulder and back, and then he was in the air, being flung out of the way like a ragdoll. He hit a tree as the Sole Survivor realized this was the time, he reloaded his gun and got between the Deathclaw and Deacon.

He aimed for its head, and missed, grazed it neck. His hands were shaking, his mind running with the possibility that they weren’t going to survive this. He shot again, but his legs gave out from underneath him, and he fell to his knees. This was it then.

But a wild form came from seemingly out-of-nowhere and rammed into his assailant, a Radstag buck. Sole didn’t know what it was doing, but he was glad for the distraction. He dropped his arms and crawled to his vulnerable companion, watching as the buck rammed the beast again. The mutant deer ceased its assault and ran off in the direction of the alcove Deacon had been checking out earlier. The deathclaw followed closely and maneuvered out of sight.

“Did I get ‘em boss?” A wheezy voice asked, Sole sighed thankful that he was conscious. A hand reached up for assistance in standing, and was obliged quickly.

“Not exactly bud, we need to get out of here before he remembers us,” Sole murmured back, “Thank God for that Radstag.”

“Wait, I need to get my pack, got all the extra stuff in there-”

“We don’t have time for that, we can come back later, but for now we just need to get out of here.”

Deacon sighed in response, grimace on his face as they started in the direction they came from. The noises of a fight weren’t far behind, and Sole wanted to quicken the pace. But he was pretty sure Deacon was severely hurt,  though it all had happened so fast, too fast, and he hadn’t been able to keep track of what had happened.

“You alright Deacon? It looked like he got you good, but I didn’t really see anything other than you flying through the air really…” he asked between breaths.

“I’m fine, nothing to worry about, let’s just get out of here,” said Deacon, but he wasn’t actually sure about the full extent of his injuries. Adrenaline and Endorphins still ran through his system, dulling most pains.

Besides, whatever it was, he could deal with it on his own like he’d always done.

The sounds were distant now. Their surroundings were still wooded,  but chances were that the Deatchlaw had given up any chance of catching them, so they stopped to catch their breaths. In almost an instant, they were traversing the underbrush again. Both were eager to be out of the open.

“Well, that happened,” said Deacon. 

The sole survivor chuckled a bit and stretched his arms out, his shoulders audibly popping. His hands were still trembling.

“Indeed it did buddy, indeed it did,” and after a beat, he added, “We should try to find a spot to stop for the night, after all that excitement, it might be a good idea.” 

Deacon nodded, and Sole couldn’t help but notice the lines of exhaustion covering his companion’s face. It was understandable, he thought,  and even more reason to find cover and make camp as soon as possible.   
  



	2. The Cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is most for lead up, so sorry that it is a bit slow, do enjoy Deacon and Sole having nice little chats though. Again thank you to my buddy Mr_Walrus for being an awesome Beta

Deacon and the Sole Survivor came across several places that would work as shelter, but they eventually settled on a small shallow cave. The dead forest had grown thicker as they traversed through, but there was flowing water nearby and a distinct lack of Mirelurks or Bloodbugs. So they decided it was satisfactory enough.

After scouting the area and establishing some sense of comfort and safety, Deacon and the Sole Survivor began to relax. Sole pulled off his pack and let it drop to the ground loudly. He groaned as he stretched his newly freed back, the lack of weight on his shoulders was blissful.

He began to rummage through his sack, looking for food. They hadn’t actually sat down to eat since even before the Deathclaw attack. Sole was glad they decided to split the food between their packs for instances such as this, but he was also worried that the food inside Deacon’s would attract animals to the abandoned clothes, and more importantly, the junk and weapons inside. They’d spent forever collecting the materials that they’d need for some repair work and construction at the safehouse. He pulled out a box of sugar bombs, and smiled lightly when he looked up and saw Deacon standing near the entrance of their little hideout. He was leaning against the cave wall, staring at the Sole Survivor thoughtfully.

_He looks a bit tense,_ Sole thought to himself.

After a beat of silence of the two of them watching each other, Deacon took a couple steps forward and began to speak, “Hey while you’re still poking through that thing, you mind if I borrow a shirt? This one got a bit roughed up, and well, my stuff…”

Deacon trailed off, hands held helplessly in front of him.

Sole beamed at him, and started digging around again, sugar bombs set aside and momentarily forgotten. The inside of Sole’s bag was a mess, jumbles of junk in every nook and cranny, along with various food items and ammo. Junk started spilling out of pockets of his bag, evidently Sole stored his extra clothing at the very bottom, and his lack of organizational skills made it an ordeal to reach. Deacon shuffled forward and opened the box of sugary puffs and popping a few in his mouth while he waited, watching Sole’s hands as they worked deftly.

Usually Deacon would be making fun of his companion’s hoarding tendencies, but with the calm that’d settled, the adrenaline from earlier had quickly dissipated. There wasn’t anything to quell the throbbing pain from the lines that covered his back, which put a damper on his usual good spirits. When he would otherwise be standing watchfully, he was languid. Though his exhaustion would easily go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t used to his nuances.

Finally, the Sole Survivor grinned as he presented a collared grey button down. Its edges were a bit frayed, and a button was missing, but besides that it was in surprisingly good condition. Deacon smiled in return and grabbed it.

“Thanks, I’d promise to take care of it, but…” he trailed off as their fingers lingered slightly when they touched. He coughed before continuing “That’s not a, uh, very easy promise to keep… considering our line of work.”

He quickly backed away and walked stiffly towards the entrance of the cave. Sole chuckled, starting to put away all the random things that had fallen out out of his bag.

Once Deacon was outside and out of view, he pulled off his wig and folded his glasses as he walked. It’d be hard enough getting his shirt off without worrying about those getting in the way. When the small creek they’d discovered earlier was in view he started tugging off his shirt. The fabric brushed against the breaks in his skin, and he hissed through his teeth at the painful pull. There’d be no saving this shirt, what wasn’t ripped and torn was splotched in blood. Despite that, he had hidden it quite well from the Sole Survivor. Which was alarmingly easy as the man lacked any sense of perception.

Deacon couldn’t see how deep the wound was, but if the amount of blood on his shirt was any indication, he’d gotten off lucky. If it was even an inch deeper, or at a slightly different angle, the Deathclaw could have permanently disabled his right arm.

He slowed his pace as he made it to the creek’s edge, and knelt down to cup some water in his hands. It was irradiated, just like the rest of the water in the area, but he needed to wash off. Dried blood was crusted onto his back and he didn't want to get it on Sole’s shirt.

The water was cold, goosebumps were forming along his arms as he poured it down his back. The familiar tingling of radiation buzzed along the watery tracks. He figured he could use a dose or two of radaway later if needed.

He carefully traced the three long lines along his back, from the top of his right shoulder to the center of his spine, removing any dirt he felt. Contorting his arms around to his back reopened the barely sealed wounds. He sighed in frustration, and continued to wash off slowly. Through the cool water, he could feel the flesh around the openings were hot and puffed up. Neither of them had any stimpacks as they’d ran out a few days ago, so he filed that away to check on later when he had the time and medicine.

Deacon folded his ruined shirt in half. The dirtied half hidden, and reached towards his back with it in hand, skin stretching uncomfortably. He blotted his back gently, soaking up blood in an attempt to stanch the wound.

He knelt by the water until he was satisfied he'd stopped the bleeding well enough. Then he dunked what remained of his shirt into the creek and started scrubbing it. They could probably use the cloth for something, Sole did tend use everything he could get his hands on.

He slipped on the shirt Sole had given him and his glasses, and with his Pompadour wig in hand, he made his way back to their hideout. It was starting to get late, and the horizon was tinged dark with storm clouds. He hoped it was only a normal one, he’d be willing to put up with traveling in the rain to get to the safehouse, but radiation was something they’d have to stay in for. Another day without progress was something he’d prefer to avoid.

Breaking the line of trees to their small clearing, he noticed Sole had started a fire. He groaned in appreciation when he was in range of the heat, and raised his palms towards it. It was nice warming up after being doused in cold creek water. Sole wasn’t within sight, so he shrugged to himself and settled in by the fire, throwing small twigs nearby into it. He spread his wet ripped shirt out on a rock nearby to dry it.

Fast winds blew the smoke around, the direction seemed to change randomly, the intensity of the winds were also changing, sometimes blowing sparks too close for his liking. He shifted to make himself more comfortable when he saw the box of sugar bombs from earlier, half-emptied. he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw it, but thinking about eating make his stomach flip.

He chalked it down to radiation from the water, and decided he should probably eat against the nausea. He pulled the box beside him. Slowly, he popped each sugar bomb into his mouth individually, and let them melt before continuing. He sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackling of the fire, and the sound of the steam. Usually he was quite attentive, but his eyes glazed over and he stared at the fire mindlessly.

The fire flickered towards him and smoke flared into his face. It burned his eyes, and he moved to get up when he heard chuckling. Sole was back.

“Don’t try to move, it’ll just follow you. Don’t you know the saying? Smoke follows beauty?” said Sole. Deacon only snorted in response and got up to move anyways. Without the smoke in his face now, Deacon saw that Sole was carrying a bunch of wood.

_Ah, so that’s what he’s been doing._

“Let me help with that. Let’s put it in the cave, looks like it’s gonna rain later,” Deacon grabbed an arm load out of Sole’s stack, skin on his back protesting. He slowed his pace and lead the Sole Survivor in the direction of their cave.

“Sooo, what have you been up to? Kind of disappeared there for a while,” said Sole, dropping the stack of wood in the spot Deacon indicated.

“Oh, I was just washing off by the creek. Felt all gross and sweaty, and I figured creek water would be as good as any,” Deacon replied, dusting his hands off.

“You probably could’ve just waited for the rain and showered in that to be honest,” Sole replied looking to the sky. It was darker still. “We should probably move the fire in too.”

Deacon nodded in agreement.

It was a matter of minutes after they moved the fire when the downpour started. Deacon had just barely save Sole’s bag, which the man almost forgot outside.

With the combined matter of two men, a fire, and Sole’s mess of a bag, there was little room to move. The cave was more of a netch in the side of hill that happened to have overcovering. The possibility of an oncoming storm hadn’t played a role when they were looking for a place to camp, but after months of traveling together, personal space didn’t mean much.

Sole was sprawled out by the fire, using his bag as a pillow. He stared at the ceiling, chattering about what camping trips were like pre-war.

Deacon held his back to wall of the cave. The rock was cold, but it helped sooth the burning sensation of his back. He had a good view of both his partner and the entrance. So far, the storm hadn’t yet turned into a radiation one, but he felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

“...and then we would roast marshmallows, mine always got burnt. Nora liked them that way, so I’d give my mess ups to her, so I didn’t mind so much,” Sole was still talking, he mimicked different actions and started to wave his hands around. He turned his head to look at Deacon, quieting down for a second. “You can go to sleep bud, I don’t mind. I know my stories can get a bit rambly sometimes.”

“Nah, I like listening to your stories,” Deacon replied.

“I just don’t want to keep you up. You seem tired,” said Sole.

“I’m fine, just worried about this storm. Don’t want to wait out here for too long.”

“That’s true, guess we’ll find out in the morning,” said Sole. They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the heavy rain and rustle of the wind through the branches. After a particularly loud pop of the fire, Deacon moved to add more wood to it.

  
He felt the eyes of his companion on his back.


	3. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a bit longer to update, I just moved and have been preoccupied. Again thanks to my beta, ever so fabulous and helpful.  
> It will probably take a while to update to the next one, my semester ends soon and I need to catch up.  
> Do enjoy the chapter~

_He was floating. Suspended in the middle of a lake. With the shore a far off in the distance, it felt like a whole other world. So far from the trouble of the Commonwealth, so far from the pain._

_His arms were stretched out to his sides, and his legs kicked out slowly, not enough to move him._

_Millions of stars shimmered above, and if someone were to look down at his restful figure, he would appear to be amongst the galaxies himself. The water was still and reflected everything, but he couldn’t see anything but the sky, and couldn’t hear anything but his own breath. It was a peace he had never known._

_The water lapped at his skin, it was cold but not uncomfortable. He tried to remember how he got here and how long he’d been floating, but gave up after deciding it didn’t matter._

_The sky began to distort, and the clusters of dots that were the stars blurred into streaks. He blinked slowly and stopped kicking his legs. The dark navy colored cosmos was slowly overwhelmed by red seeping from the horizon._

_Each streaking star going out as the rusty color reached it._

_He was treading water now, still looking at the sky, horrified, his neck strained and the water began to heat and swirl around him. A spot ahead of him in the water started bubbling, the smell of sulfur penetrated his mind. A pale figure was beneath the surface._

_His breathing was shallow, the heavy weight of the water compressing around him. He seemed to move closer against his will, going faster and faster, and suddenly he was there._

_The bubbling stopped, and the only sound was the welling of the water around him and his heartbeat in his ears._

_Something grabbed his ankle and pulled him beneath the surface. His free limbs flailed, and his eyes were scrunched shut, he had enough sense to hold his breath, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was twirled around, and when he opened his eyes, the red sky had vanished. Pure darkness was all he could see, soft shimmering hair flowed around his face. He must have been in the lake a long time if his hair had grown back._

_The water continued to heat, his skin was buzzing and his back felt like pure flames beneath the water._

_Whatever had pulled him down, seemed to have left him._

_He was alone._

_Letting go the last of the air in his lungs, small bubbles floated out from between his lips and nostrils, he swiveled to see what direction they went. The pitch black water was disorienting, but he knew the air would float toward the surface._

_The inky blackness of the water, began to match the color of the now brick red sky the more he swam. His eyes dotted with blackness, and the corners of his vision faded, then his face broke the surface. His first breath was a gasping cough, and water spilled down his face._

_A storm had started, raging wind sounded, and his skin buzzed with every gust._

_He started treading, looking for the shore of the lake, to find shelter. Drenched bangs blocked his vision and the wind made his eyes burn._

_A small splash and the sound of someone gasping for breath sounded behind him._

_He spun around and was met with the face of the Sole Survivor. His usually light hair was dark with water, and his eyes held none of their usual gleam. He was scowling when he started to talk._

_“Why did you leave me Deacon? I could have died.” He started quietly, but with every word he got louder. His dark eyes were fixed on Deacon’s, without the barrier of dark sun glasses for the first time. He seemed to scoff at what he found in them. “First you leave me for a Deathclaw, and now you left me to drown, you really don’t care about anyone about yourself do you?”_

_The rain marred his face, Deacon didn’t know what to say in response. Despite the fire of the water and in his back, he was frozen. He somehow knew this was coming, deep in his bones. This is why he tried not to let himself get attached,_

_The water that streamed down his face was not only rain now. The lake water was moving faster around him, he felt like he was shaking. Sole’s mouth was still moving but all Deacon could hear was the wind and rain._

“Deacon” _He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for another reprimand._

“Dee, wake up.”

_Eyes opened now, in the place of Sole, was now a looming Deathclaw, and Deacon screamed._

He bolted upright, staggering to his feet quickly. A storm still raged, but it was different. It was tinted green.

The Sole Survivor looked at him worried. They were no longer swimming, they were in the shallow niche, their current excuse of a home.

Deacon’s breath was still shallow, his heart fluttering. The sudden movement when he stood stretched the skin along his back. He was a good actor though, and his face remained impassive.

“You alright there? I was just going to wake you up for some Rad-X. Y’know, with the storm and all… I’m surprised you weren’t already up, uh, I mean since you’re usually such a light sleeper,” Sole said, holding out the radiation resistance drug. Deacon grabbed the small bottle of pills. His skin was already prickling uncomfortably.

“Must’ve been more tired than I realized,” Deacon responded, awkwardly wiping his eyes with his free hand. He shook his head slightly trying to forget the strange dream. Sole handed him a bottle of purified water to swallow the pills down. He nodded in thanks as he light-heartedly said,“What time your fancy arm computer thingy says it is?”

“Just past two, you conked out around ten. The storm kept me up so I haven’t slept much. A good thing I guess, otherwise we might have woken up as ghouls,” Sole chucked after glancing at the green glowing screen.

Sole wouldn’t mention it, but Deacon had said things in his sleep. Nothing easy to understand, just mumbling, but it was still unusual. The man usually slept with one eye open, he was too high strung to sleep deeply enough to actually start sleep-talking. But what little Sole did manage to get out of the other’s mumblings, it wasn’t a good dream.

They sat in silence for a while, Deacon unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. He obviously hadn’t meant to fall asleep when he had, the position he was in looked extremely uncomfortable. Half slouched against a wall and neck craning forward. Sole would have moved him into a more comfortable position, but he didn’t want to wake him up.

“So you say you haven’t slept at all?” Deacon asked suddenly, catching Sole off guard. “I mean, that’s probably a good thing, keeping watch and all, but you should try to sleep. I don’t think I’ll be able to again tonight anyways.”

“Yeah, I know, I normally sleep like a rock, but for some reason, despite all the, uh, action yesterday I’ve been having trouble,” He didn’t want to add that he would definitely feel better with Deacon awake. There was no real reason for someone to be on guard with the radiation as it was, and he was convinced Deacon needed more rest, but there was something about being watched over by someone he trusted.

It wasn’t long before Sole started to doze off despite his mixed feelings. Deacon made sure to keep the fire going, though it was much smaller than what it was before. They were low on wood and he wanted to conserve it as best he could. Who knew how long the storm would last? He knew they could go on for days. Hopefully that wasn’t the case this time.

When he finally fell asleep, Sole tended to mumble. Deacon heard the names Nora and Shaun most often. Sometimes weird mundane things though, like needing to pick up more milk and eggs. Deacon frequently wondered what his pre-war life was like.

Sole often said he never quite fit in with everyone before. Back then, he’d feigned normalcy. He fit in seamlessly now that the world was blown to pieces though. Deacon looked at the face of his sleeping companion, glad he was getting some sleep, but suddenly feeling very alone.

A strong gust of wind made the flames lick towards him. He heard the withered trees outside sway and creek

Then a twig snapped.

He swung his gaze to the entrance. Darkness, tinted green with smears of black. He held his breath momentarily and looked at his companion. He swallowed and rolled his shoulders nervously, ignoring the warm searing heat that followed along his right shoulder.

It was quiet for a while longer. He began to think that, maybe, he imagined it. He didn’t let his guard down though. Before Sole climbed out of his vault, Deacon had been in a similar situation. Cave, storm, late at night, only difference was that he wasn’t injured. That night hadn’t ended smoothly, a noise he’d taken for imagination turned out to be a couple of raiders. He ended up fine, but it was a close call. He never wanted to be unprepared like that again.

Deacon shifted positions, sitting up straighter. The rocky cave wall slid against his wound. He wanted to check on it again, but he couldn’t exactly make it to the creek again unless he wanted come back glowing. Even with the Rad-X, he wouldn’t want to go out in a radiation storm unless he thought it was completely necessary. His back could wait a couple more hours.

Even though Deacon’s mind was buzzing and awake, his body slowly sagged against the stone. The fire popped loudly, startling him back to wakefulness. He chided himself and looked around slowly. The storm made his sight useless. He couldn’t see more than five feet from the entrance of the cave. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened.

The soft murmurs of the fire was drowned out by the sound of the wind.

Another crack.

Eyes snapped open. That couldn’t be a coincidence.. He spared a glace to his companion and decided to let him sleep. He would just scout around a little bit, just in case. He couldn’t stray far in this storm as it was anyways.

He got up slowly, adding a branch to the fire so it would be easier for him to find it on his way back, and stepped out of the entrance.

He was immediately bombarded with wind, but the Rad-X did its job however, and the radiation only tingled slightly.

Deacon looked back, just to refresh what their hideout looked like from the outside, then passed the tree line.

The small cave was out of view, he was sure he’d find his way back easily enough.

….

When the Sole Survivor woke up again, it was still dark, but what was pitch black before had turned gray. He an early riser and wasn’t surprised. What did surprise him however, was the fact that he was alone. He’d have assumed his partner left for a bathroom break, but the fire was out.

Sole glanced around the small cave thinking maybe he missed Deacon’s curled up figure somewhere.

But there was nothing.

Worried, he sat up, and looked toward the mouth of the cave. The storm was still raging, but not as ferociously as hours before. Still enough that no one should head out without a dose of Rad-X.

He got up and dug through his bag for more Rad-X. There were five pills of the drug left, and each time they took two each.

He took his dose, hoping the storm would end soon, and shoved enough for Deacon in his pants pockets. And though he hoped they wouldn’t need it, he grabbed a bag of RadAway.

The Sole Survivor shuffled to his feet quickly and headed to the entrance of the cave. He paused looking into the desolate forest. Which direction would his friend follow?

He had no idea. He supposed it would likely depend on what would have made Deacon get out of the cave to begin with. Did he decide to get his bag? Did he get thirsty? Maybe he heard something?

The easiest lead Sole decided was to check the creek. Deacon had been there before they finished camp, maybe he had a good reason to go back.

He ventured forward, the wind blowing his hair into his face. There was no more rain to speak of, but the radioactive fog persisted. He barely felt it, other than a slight stinging in his eyes, but that could have just been the wind.

The Sole Survivor continued winding through the trees, occasionally calling out Deacon’s name. He never got a response, or if he did, he couldn’t hear it.

The smoky green radiation cloud that covered the area obscured his view. to only a few feet ahead. He could only see a few feet ahead, so it’d be easy to walk right by Deacon. He knew he wasn’t the most perceptive of people, and normally it was alright because Deacon was. But in his current situation, it scared him. What if he couldn’t find him and didn’t bring the Rad-X and RadAway in time?

Panic was just starting to creep up on him as he came to the irradiated creek. Again, he saw nothing, but walking forward he heard a snap under his foot unlike those of the twigs he’d stepped on. He looked down and saw something shining.

It was Deacon’s sunglasses. And he had broken off an arm. He picked them up, hands shaking and quickly stuffed them into his free pocket.

Deacon wouldn’t just leave these behind.

He blinked back tears thinking about what might have happened and called out, louder than before, and stepped into the creek bed. Water seeped into his shoes as he scoured around. Here, he knew Deacon had to be here.

He just knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides*  
> Don't hit me! I know, cliff hanger.  
> I'll update as soon as I can, but don't get your hopes up.


	4. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took forever. I don't really have a good excuse. I'll try to keep on track, but alas the computer that had all my story plans is now inaccessible to me so I'm going with how I think it was planned, though I already know I've changed a major point. Sooo sorry if there are later some holes here and there.

Deacon woke to himself groggy, sluggish, and with his eyes closed. They felt too heavy to open so he decided against trying. It wasn’t often he woke without a clue of where he was, and his mind didn’t seem to want to cooperate in assisting his tired confusion.

He was set laying on his stomach, cheek resting against a really nice smelling flannel shirt. It must have been Sole’s, Deacon didn’t bring any of his flannel. He kept as still as he could, in an attempt to feign sleep.

It was his first instinct, he’d rather not let the rest of the world know how confused he was before he had a chance to collect his thoughts. Both his mind and his body were rebelling however, as each of his limbs continually shivered involuntarily, he was so damn cold. A fire crackled nearby, but it couldn’t seem to warm him up enough.

Little bits and pieces of memory slowly came back to him. He had gone out investigating a strange noise, and…

Ah that’s right, he hadn’t found anything. It seemed his mind had been playing tricks on him... whatever noise he had heard either was never there, or long gone. The thought he had been wrong bothered him, but he supposed it was better than the alternative.

He didn’t get lost per say, but the radiation had been starting to get to him. It, unfortunately, was hell bent on making him disorientated and the longer he stayed out of the protection of the cave, the worse it got.

He remembered starting near the small stream and keeping to it, but everything past that was a buzzing black hole in the back of his mind.

After a couple more minutes of calm silence, he deigned himself ready to face the music, and opened his eyes.

There was no barrier between him and world, his glasses were off his face and nowhere immediately obvious, his already confused state was now five time more uncomfortable. It was a strange sensation, even his eyes felt cold, and he had to blink them a couple times before getting them to focus properly for him.

He was back in the cave that he and Sole had found, the fire was stocked, and he saw an empty bag of Radaway. That would explain the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, radaway, while lifesaving, often made the user feel sick. Deacon was particularly sensitive to a lot of the wasteland medicines as it was. He wasn’t too sure why, and avoided using them when possible along with most all types of drugs, he didn’t like the of not being in control of his actions, there was enough chaos in life without his own body rebelling.

Deacon shifted his body slightly, scooching closer to the fire, but his head was immediately swimming, and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach grew. He scrunched his eyes closed, and tried to center himself, putting his forehead back against the stone ground, the chilled rock sucking heat out of his skin.

Pain he didn’t notice earlier flared up on the back of his shoulder. The rough fabric of his shirt catching at the uneven bits of flesh and pulling. He hissed between his teeth and moved to remove the offending fabric. His fingers were being uncooperative, just like the rest of him, and he resigned himself to the painful sensation, flopping arms down dramatically in resignation.

Deacon was not the kind of man who was unaware of his surroundings, he usually paid extra care to stay on alert when he was compromised, as seemed to be the position he was in currently. The last time he had been either sick or wounded majorly, was at the switchboard, he didn’t have the luxury of waiting to heal then, seeing as he was on a mission to get the survivors to the safety of their new chosen hideout. They had all been on extra high alert then, especially with several of their own hurt. He never had the problem of spacing out, even when he would spend days at a time at the same lookout point, watching over a vault entrance.

And so, Deacon didn’t realize he was spacing out until there was suddenly a handsome face right in his line of vision. Sole was back it seemed, and he was carrying several bottles of cold water, Deacon could see the condensation on the sides of their containers. The small droplets fascinating him as they were slowly pulled down the sides of the clear glass.

Sole was suddenly patting his back slightly, his whole body groaned discontentedly “You listening to me pal? I was really worried about you there. Still am to be honest.” He said, face crinkled with anxiety.

Sole brought a hand to Deacon’s brow, he recoiled initially from the touch, before allowing it. Deacon wasn't fond of being touched, but he could make exceptions. Sole’s frown deepened “I think you have a fever, lets hope we can break it soon, we don’t have a lot of supplies and need to get to the safehouse as soon as possible.”

They were both quiet for a while, fire popping. The natural sunlight from the entrance of the cave shone on Sole’s hair and highlighted the gold bronze tones. Deacon blinked slowly, trying to get his mind in order. He didn’t get sick very often, he supposed the radiation from the storm and his subsequent stupidity led to his current condition.

In normal times he would go off to find his own personal shelter until he was better, or he’d just get either a stimpak or antibiotics, depending on the problem, even though it makes him feel like shit. But now he would not describe as normal times, and he doubted his own ability to move long distances. “I feel perfectly tip top buddyo, don't know what you’re talkin’ about.” He was less convincing with his rather scratchy voice. He turned his face away when he spoke, feeling too exposed under Sole’s scrutiny without his glasses, he was sure his eyes looked tired and showed more weaknesses than he would like them to.

Sole frowned, and got one of the bottles of cold water he recently filled, soaking a piece of cloth, and moving to place it on Deacon’s neck. The air already felt cold, and the freezing water was not something he wanted against his skin, he flinched away from the hand, straining his head away from the offending object. Sole’s frown deepened “Dee, you might not feel like it but you are running really hot we need to get you cooled down.”

Deacon sighed and resigned himself to it, normally he would get even more stubborn, but he saw the worry in his friend’s eyes and allowed it. For the moment.

Sole must have seen the resignation, in Deacon’s frame, and gave himself a triumphant smile. He wondered to himself how Deacon could seem fine one minute and the next morning be a hot mess, and Deacon was never a hot mess.

But he is definitely hot

Surprised by his own thought he blushed in shame, here was his friend laying in a heep on the ground and Sole was thinking about his hotness levels. He is a bad person. Sole hoped Deacon wasn’t paying too much attention. Though he supposed paying attention to things was the heart and soul of Deacon’s job. He had never had the chance to witness Deacon in such a disheveled state. He hoped he wouldn’t have to again anytime soon, it felt wrong on so many levels.


End file.
